


The Green (Eyed) Fairy

by Bischedule (neunundneunzig)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Absinthe, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Crowley, References to Oscar Wilde, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neunundneunzig/pseuds/Bischedule
Summary: I wanted a little jealous/possessive Crowley, a little slutty Aziraphale, and I happened to be reading a book on the history of Absinthe. All falls together really easily.





	The Green (Eyed) Fairy

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been told absinthe produces psychedelic effects that is, in large, a lie. So don't come in expecting that. 
> 
> Also, Crowley comes off as slightly homophobic, so warning on that.

Crowley slithered through the garden, not yet in his human form again. He'd woken from his long nap and decided to give his old friend a visit. He'd gotten to the book shop, only to be pushed aside as he tried to enter by a ugly man with a dark fur coat. Crowley sneered, coming in behind him, ready to throw the unwanted customer out. Then, at the tinkle of the bell, Aziraphale's voice sounded joyously from the backroom, "Oscar, my dear, is that you?"

"In the flesh, my angel." 

Crowley felt his stomach drop, first metaphorically, then literally. He crawled on his belly, black and shiny, hiding behind a bookstack. The horrid man, Oscar, looked behind him, blinking a little but not seeing the snake, and locked the door. 

Crowley watched him fiercely and carefully, expecting violence to sprout. He reared up, ready to save Aziraphale again at the dramatic last minute. But his angel was already on the attack, charging up and… pressing a chaste kiss to the man's lips. Crowley slunk down. He noticed a few minor changes in the angel, the sideburns gone, Crowley noticed these less around, he'd already done away with his. Same coat, same face, but definitely not entirely the same angel he left.

"Careful dear!" The man still embraced his angel, hands stroking his arms, "The windows are still open."

"I know, I know, I just missed you terribly. You'll pick up bad habits being so long in Paris."

"Ones you haven't already tempted me into?" He slipped a hand down and gave a squeeze of Aziraphale's ass. Crowley watched in outrage. 

The angel gave a warm laugh and leaned into the man's chest, "Oh Oscar… are you staying long?"

"Today, no, I have other affairs to attend to." He paused and cupped Aziraphale's chin, "Not those kinds of affairs, love, don't get jealous. But I want you over tomorrow, to look over some poetry."

"At your place? Yes, of course, whatever time works best, I'll just close up shop."

"You're a horrible salesman." He smiled fondly and kissed him again, nearly on the cheek, but catching the corner of his lips, "Come for tea. I picked up some biscuits I know you'll like." 

"I look forward to it." Aziraphale fawned. Crowley nearly wretched at the sight. He nearly made himself known as soon as the horrible, ugly, unstylish, horrible man left, but decided to wait instead. Maybe levels of male affection had changed over the last few decades. This seemed far more clandestine, but maybe he shouldn't confront his angel just yet for these sins. He had to be sure. 

Hence him wandering through the garden like a common, well, garden snake. He was a little late, he could already heard the men laughing inside. He came up closer, sliding through an open door and finding them on a couch, the man messing with some apparatus while Aziraphale stared at him with far too much fondness to be decent. 

"La fee verte. It's… well, it would be a crime to drink it neat."

"Would that stop you, Oscar? Something being a sin or a crime?" Aziraphale smiled coyly. 

"No, never. But this is about the ritual. Watch as it dilutes with the water, the opal and emerald of it. They say it can drive a man to madness, enough of it." He messed with the mechanism more and finally produced a glass, taking a sip himself and offering it to Aziraphale. 

The angel drank gently, watching Oscar from the rim of the glass, then winced, "Ah! Still quite strong."

"Acquired." Oscar hummed, taking another drink and setting it down, snatching up Aziraphale's hand. "I usually take it at cafes…"

"Oh?" Aziraphale watched as Oscar started kissing his knuckles. 

Oscar moved back and pushed off Aziraphale's jacket. Crowley nearly hissed in fury. Aziraphale gave a soft noise as the man began kissing his neck, muttering on his skin, "Cafes filled with lithe, sweet Parisian boys…"

"Did they tempt you? Did you lay with them?" Aziraphale slid his hands up Oscar's thighs, then began working open his breeches. 

"No, not one. No, I just thought of my English angel." He started unbuttoning Aziraphale's vest, then his shirt. Aziraphale pulled him into a desperate kiss. 

Crowley flicked his tail hard, knocking over a lamp. It crashed to the floor, and the men sprung apart. Aziraphale pulled his coat back on, eyes wide in fear, "You said we'd be-"

"We are! I told my servants to leave me for the afternoon." Oscar strode up, "And besides, they know not to gossip about- Ah!"

"What is it, love?" Aziraphale came beside him. 

"Look! It's a huge serpent! Get the fire poker!"

Aziraphale met Crowley's eyes, recognizing him at once and filling with fury. He shook his head, "Don't bother."

Crowley considered reverting back to his form, try to explain, but before he could, he was snatched up and dragged by the tail. 

"My! How brave!" Oscar gasped, keeping distance as Aziraphale took Crowley outside. 

Aziraphale spoke in a hushed yell as soon as he was out, "Wretched little spy! How long have you been watching my private moments?! We're not done talking about this. I'm furious, Crowley, furious."

He tossed him out in the grass like he was nothing. Crowley gave a hiss and slithered off.

He paced around his apartment, considering fucking it all and sleeping for another century. But hell would notice his absence. Maybe he would leave the country, go stir trouble in China or the Americas. But he couldn't bear to leave Aziraphale, no matter how cruelly the angel just treated him. After dark, he made his way down to the bookshop. He swallowed and knocked on the door, which was opened immediately by a clearly drunk Aziraphale. 

"Zira. Hey. Been a while." Crowley shifted and pulled his glasses off. 

Aziraphale flung the door open for him and went on inside, "Don't start, Crowley."

He pursed his lips and came in, shutting the door and locking it. Aziraphale sat down, sloshing wine onto the floor. He glared at Crowley. Crowley opened his mouth to speak and was cut off immediately by his angel, "How could you! I've been worried sick about you for decades and it turns out you're just spying on me!"

"I just woke up yesterday!" Crowley huffed, "I came into the shop to find that you're slutting around with some sodomite!"

Aziraphale gave a look and Crowley's chest felt tight. He looked down at his feet, "I didn't-"

"No, no, that's rich coming from you! You beg me to sin for millennia and the moment I find someone-"

"Someone to sin with? Yes, angel, you really picked a fine one. Do you even have anything in your pants to satisfy him?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." He sat up, "But that's none of your business, none of this is your business, Crowley." He shook his head, "Who I love is not your business."

"Love?" Crowley snorted, "Seriously, you think you love that poof?"

"Get out." Aziraphale stood. 

"No, no, really you-" Crowley shut his lips, frustrated as wine was splashed on his face. He wiped it and shook his head, "Angel, sober up, you're drunk."

"Get out of my shop before I bless the next glass." He growled. 

Crowley stepped back, eyes flashing hurt before he put the glasses back on and ran out. 

Over the next few days, Crowley read the messages Aziraphale had delivered over to him. They ranged in sobriety and sincerity. He could tell the angel was sorry, but for some reason it didn't matter. What mattered was knowing he loved that wretched human and that he didn't- no. No, there was no way Crowley could ever expect that of him. He made his decision, and quickly left for America. After tending to some minor business.

* * *

They were back at Crowley's lodging. It was a shabby little room in a guest house, but Aziraphale didn't care. Crowley came for him and saved him. _And his books._ He followed him in gladly, relieved in the fact that they were still friends. 

"Well, it's not much." Crowley popped open a bottle of wine, "But you're not really sleeping here either way."

"Oh? I'm not welcome to stay, Anthony?" He smiled as a glass was poured for him. 

"No! Yes, you are. Shut up. I just. You don't sleep. That I know of." 

"I don't, dear, I'm giving you a hard time." He looked at the glass sadly, "Listen, I wrote you letters, I don't know if-"

"I got them. It's okay. It's all the past now." He sat down, draining his glass and filling it again, "I assume he's no longer…"

"No, no, back at the turn of the century. He… was condemned to hard labor. For… loving men. I suppose you don't really care, but-"

"No. No, it's a loss for you. I'm sorry. Really."

He swirled his glass, "I did love him, truly. I'm sorry for my… abrasion then."

"I was out of line."

"You were. But angels are about forgiveness, dear. I shouldn't have reacted from a place of anger."

"Never were the most typical angel, were you?" He smiled warmly.

"Suppose not." He drank from his glass slowly. 

"What was he like?" Crowley asked gently.

"You don't have to humor me, you know. It's nearly been fifty years, I'm okay." 

"I'm not. Really." Crowley sat up, "Wanna talk about the soldiers dying for the rich fat generals? Or the children suffering and people being killed for their belief in Her?" 

"Don't use them as a weapon against me." He frowned. 

"No, I'm not. I'm just… distract me, angel. Tell me about your lover."

"Well… He was a poet and a writer. A visionary." He smiled softly, "He loved tenderly. Like each love was an art."

"What was it again, Arthur?"

"Oscar." He hummed fondly, "Oscar Wilde."

Crowley sat up, "You're joking! _That_ was Oscar Wilde?"

"Er, yes it was."

"And you were sleeping with him?!"

Aziraphale set his glass down, "_Anthony_ I really thought you would be considerate…"

"No! No, no, no! He waved his hands, "Angel, he's a jewel in the crown of the age of decadence! The hedonism, it's… he was an icon, is one!"

Aziraphale picked his glass up again, smiling softly, "You know I have signed first editions of everything. Even the works he published in prison."

"That's extraordinary. You're quite the muse, aren't you?" Crowley smiled. 

"Well… he had other lovers, even when he was mine."

"Oh, as though any could outshine you." Crowley clinked their glasses. 

"...so that's fine then? It's only okay for me to have passions with the hedonistic and poetic then?" 

"Not what I was saying."

"No. What then? Why did you throw such a fit about me having a personal life?" 

"Angel, please."

"You only left me to my own devices for nearly a century. Really now." He shook his head, "This was a mistake. I should be off."

"No! No angel. Stay and drink. We won't talk about him any more."

Aziraphale settled back in his chair, muttering, "I loved him so much."

"I know. I know." Crowley patted his arm, feeling bitter. 

They chatted about the most inconsequential things. About the more innocent parts of Crowley's stay in the states, about the rise of the telephone and the typewriter and about the first flowers and grasses Aziraphale saw springing out of bombed earth. They drank til they couldn't, and for once in the last two centuries, they both felt somewhat at ease.

* * *

And then Crowley didn't see him again for a while. More time passed and Crowley dwelt on the angel, on his lover. He saw things in London and Paris and San Francisco that made him think of the tender touches of the two. He realized what he knew all along. And with that realization came the fact that he needed insurance, should anyone on his side realize what was afoot. The Arrangement was one thing. This was a whole new danger. 

He planned the whole thing out, feeling rather cool with the organization of it all. But in the end he didn't need anything or any of them. His angel came through. 

What he wanted to say was, "I did this all for you. I'm prepared to go anywhere for you, do anything."

What he managed out was, "I'll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go."

Aziraphale gave a kind smile, "You go to fast for me Crowley." And grabbed the handle. 

"Wait!" Crowley cried. He shut his eyes tight, but didn't hear the door pop open. He grit his teeth, not daring to look at the angel. "I was mad about Oscar because he had what I wanted and I was furious he got to just _have_ it."

"Oh Crowley." Aziraphale smiled and patted his hand, "You'll find someone who loves you someday, I'm sure of it."

Crowley grimaced, "Dun want someone."

"A man, yes? Well, it is becoming more acceptable perhaps-"

_"Aziraphale!"_

Aziraphale looked up, blinked, frowned, "Oh… oh Crowley no."

"No…" Crowley echoed. He closed his face off from showing any emotion. 

"No! Not… no… but… I just… we're…"

"Hereditary enemies." Crowley nodded.

"Rivals throughout all spheres." Aziraphale looked over, still not getting out. 

"Complete opposites really." Crowley met his eye. 

Aziraphale would argue vehemently he didn't initiate the kiss, but it was his movement over, lunging and pressing his lips hard against Crowley's. The demon's mouth parted easily and in shock, letting him in and quickly responding with equal passion. 

Crowley touched his knee gently, just to steady himself, and Aziraphale breaks away with a gasp, "Anywhere. Anywhere, Crowley, Anywhere."

"I'll go slow." He rubbed his knee, "I'll go as slow as you need."

"My bookshop. Fast as you like." He looked him over, "I never imagined you would…"

Crowley smiled warmly and stepped on the peddle. It was a short drive. He made it in minutes. Aziraphale was nearly intoxicated by the no-longer-hidden love spilling off him. He drug him out of the car the moment it was parked and into the shop before kissing him again, slowly. 

Crowley pulled back and stroked his hips, "What did he do to you? Your old lover? Did you take him? Him you? Did you touch each other?"

Aziraphale was already tugging at his shirt, "He liked to sodomize me. Oh, oh, Crowley are you going to…?"

"Would you like me to?" He pulled it off for the angel, grinning and waving his hand, all Aziraphale's buttons coming undone, jacket, waistcoat and shirt handing limply on his shoulders. 

Aziraphale yanked down the windows by hand, hiding his blushed red face somewhat, "Yes. Yes yes please, Crowley, I never… Yes."

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's ass hard, the same possessive way he had seen that undeserving human do all those years ago, "Would you let me… against your shelf of first editions?"

"Oh you wicked thing!" Aziraphale gasped and Crowley worried for a moment he had ruined it. Then the angel's hand skimmed his lower belly, far too close to the top of his belt, "I think he'd quite appreciate the tribute."

Aziraphale shrugged his shirts off and led Crowley by the hand against a shelf near the back. He placed his hands then on the demon's shoulders and smiled softly, "Shall we?"

Crowley kissed him deep and pressed into him, pushing every inch of desire and affection into the action, hands roaming on flesh he had only dreamed of. He kissed wetly at his neck before sliding down to his knees and working off his pants. He smiled up, "Really angel, I'd think these were the same pants he'd have taken off you."

"Excuse me for not being a slave to fa-ahhh…." He threw his head back as Crowley took him out and gave him a long stroke before sucking him down. His hands found the reddish mop of hair and tangled up in them, lost quickly in pleasure. 

Crowley teased his testicles and taint, no stranger to giving to men. But this was far different. This wasn't for the purpose of temptation or sin. This was selfish and loving all at once. He needed to show Aziraphale just what the angel missed out on going for dear Mr. Wilde over him. He bobbed his head and sucked hard, letting his tongue trace burning veins over the thick member. 

When he heard a high keening noise, he pulled off and flipped Aziraphale around with just enough force, then dug his tongue into the angel's tight pink hole. He gave a near sob of pleasure under the new wicked tricks of the tongue, spreading his legs wider. Crowley circled the rim again, then pulled off with a lewd smack, grinning as the angel looked down over his shoulder, "Tell me Zira, anyone done this to you in over a hundred years?"

"No. No no not for… don't stop now!"

Crowley slipped two fingers in with minor resistance and continued to lick and flick inside him, moving off again to run his tongue broadly over and ask, "Did your old lover give you it this good?"

"No! Crowley, please!" The begging went straight to Crowley's newly freed effort, "No, please, please make love to me!"

Crowley stood slowly, tracing a finger up the angel's spine, loving his little shivers. He kissed his shoulder gently and pressed against his entrance. Aziraphale whined and turned to kiss his mouth, which Crowley quickly accepted, letting their lips slot together before he pushed into Aziraphale. 

He slid in, tasting the sweet moans the angel made into his mouth. He seated himself fully and muttered, "No one else. Not for you, not for me. I don't ever want to see you touched again, angel."

"Oh _Crowley._" There was something low and sinful in the way Aziraphale moaned his name, quickly matched by him rocking his hips forward and back. Crowley caught up with him quickly, finding a place that had them both groaning and sweating quickly. Aziraphale reached back and tugged the demon's hair desperately. Crowley gripped his ass, then tight on the wood of the shelf, laying into the angel as deeply as he felt he could. 

They reached orgasm quickly, Crowley stroking Aziraphale there first, and following soon after. He leaned against him, a panting mess, still inside him. 

Aziraphale gave a shuddering sigh, and Crowley finally remembered he didn't really need to breathe. He pulled out and cleaned the mess up with a wave, looking his angel over in delight. 

"You meant it?" Aziraphale turned slowly, "You really want no one else?"

"Who could compare?" Crowley sighed. 

Aziraphale smiled and patted the bookshelf, "Yours right Oscar, my dear, my old friend really did have feelings for me. Thanks for the support."

"Yeah." Crowley smirked, "Thanks for the support."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and pulled his button up back on, "C'mon then. I believe I have a bottle of old Pernod somewhere. Let's crack it open."

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts!


End file.
